


Penance

by Imagine_Darksiders



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Archon has a berserk button, Corruption, Developing Friendships, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Nathaniel is a good friend, Protective Archon, Protective Death, Tentacles, hint: it's you, humans are persistent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-04-27 09:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14422854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagine_Darksiders/pseuds/Imagine_Darksiders
Summary: What if the Archon hadn't died in that fight with the horseman? What if there'd been a plucky, stubborn human who decided that they'd seen enough killing for one day and stepped in front of Death himself to save a life that didn't deserve it?For an angel on the brink of losing his mind to something sinister, your extended hand of friendship could provide the Archon with a much needed life-line. A port in the storm.But love in any form is beneath an angel of his stature.So why do you always manage bring out the best and the worst in him? As love often does.





	1. A second chance

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So, I've finally decided to try and make a place for all the fan fiction I've written for Darksiders. This story was never intended to be so long, but now I've started, I've got plans for it and the Archon. If you've read this on my tumblr blog, there have been a few minor changes. Namely, I've actually proof-read this. Probably going to be a 6 parter.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy. xx

“Death! STOP!”

Those words….  
Those two little words had been the catalyst that started Lucien on a journey he never would have guessed he’d be undertaking. Not in a thousand millennia......

—

The horseman’s furious shout ripped through the air as he braced his legs against the hard stone of a floating boulder then launched himself off the side of it, hurtling towards the vulnerable Archon who hovered weakly, several metres off the ground. The angel's head barely lifted an inch, thick, viscous liquid the colour of midnight tumbling from his gaping mouth. He watched Death fly towards him, unable and unwilling to defend himself any longer, like a dog that know's when it's beaten. Gurgling out a humourless laugh, The Archon let his once bright eyes slip shut and released a gentle sigh.  
With a quick slash of gleaming scythes, Death cut the corrupted angel down.  
Lucien’s body hit the ground in a crumpled heap and he moaned weakly. One more attack and he’d be finished. 

The rational, uncorrupted part of him almost welcomed the peace of death.

"Death! STOP!"

But then you just had to interfere. You robbed Lucien of the only luxury that would spare him his torturous guilt.

Black, oily eyes watched you throw yourself in front of the downed angel with your shaking hands clutched tight around the discarded Rod of Arafel.

Death only just managed to jerk Harvester to a halt on its downswing, almost piercing you straight through the head.

“I CAN SAVE HIM!” you bellowed over the howling winds.

“Y/N, GET OUT OF MY WAY!” His shout was equally fierce.

The horseman made a grab at you, but you stumbled out of his reach - almost tripping over the quivering angel - and hollered, “NO!”

Without another word, you turned your gaze down to the Rod.

‘If Lucien could cleanse a city with this thing,’ you thought desperately, ‘then why can’t I cleanse one angel?’

It had to be worth a try.

Once more, you moved to shield the archon from a livid horseman’s scythes, distantly wondering why on Earth you’d protect this angel. He’d tricked you. Lied through his teeth about his own corruption and made you think the Scribe had the Angel Key. He’d even tried to kill you. So why save him now?

Giving a mental shrug, you chalked it up to the fact that you’re probably just sick and tired of everyone dying unnecessarily. 

Well...Not this time. 

The Rod of Arafel hummed beneath your fingers, a light gradually glowing from the centre as it tuned in to the only thought in your head. 

“I can save him.”

“Y/N!” 

——— 

“Y/n!” 

Nathaniel’s shout of alarm cuts through to you across the canyon. A demon throws itself towards your prone form as you hurriedly lift a shield to defend yourself against it’s claws. They slide harmlessly off the hard, angelic metal as it passes over your head and lands at your back. Before you can turn around to face it, a huge mass of silvery feathers slams to the ground between you and the demon - a Goreclaw, if you remembered Death’s lessons in demon anatomy correctly - before spearing it into the ground with the sharp end of Arafel. 

When you’re staring up at his back, it’s easy to forget just how big the Archon is. He towers above Nathaniel, who has a good head on Death, who stands at least a few feet taller than you. In all, Lucien is a very intimidating angel. 

All four of the Archon’s wings beat against the air angrily whilst he rips the weapon from the demon’s head. He turns to glare down at you over his shoulder. “Human, get to cover,” he barks then indicates Death, who appears to be engaged in an intense battle with several Sycophants. You notice your friend is aggressively trying to fight his way through to you, but his gaze lands on the Archon and you catch the mistrustful squint he throws his way. Lucien takes up a guarded stance, joined swiftly by Nathaniel when there’s a lull in the fight, both angels at your front and back.

Death manages to deal with two of the Sycophants before the rest retreat hastily to regroup. Rather than give chase, Death falls back to your position. His eyes hastily glance you up and down, assessing for damage. 

“Are you hurt?” he murmurs as Nathaniel and Lucien turn to face you. 

“Nah,” you say casually, “Archie had my back.” 

The angel in question grumbles irritably at the given nickname. At his side, Nathaniel’s lips tremble with a barely concealed smirk. Casting your gaze around at the dead demons and former angels, you ask, “So, any guesses what they want?” 

“An Archon, an angel, a horseman and a human all travelling together….Perhaps somebody thought they could kill four birds with one stone,” Lucien grumbles. 

Snorting, you drop your shield and lean against it, tired from the exertion of surviving the previous battle. “Sounds like the start of a bad joke.” 

“A bad ambush,” Death growls, “Likely these were only scouts.” 

Nathaniel nods in agreement. “Aye, I suspect there are more on their way as we speak.” 

“Let them come!” Lucien barks, stabbing his weapon into the ground, “I will send these demons back to their master in the pits of Hell.” 

At his shout, there’s the sound of scrabbling claws and unholy shrieks from the surrounding rocks. Lost Light, whilst beautiful, sports a very linear pathway back to the Tree of life, a path that makes for the perfect ambush. 

“Looks like you’ll get your wish, Archon!” cries Death as a swarm of demons squeeze and squirm their ways through the cracks in the rocky cliffs. From above, there are several flashes of light and you look up to see a plethora of Ayfids and Sycophants descending from the heavens, screaming like banshees and flexing their dark wings. They dive, swooping around and between you until they've effectively scattered your group. 

——-

“There’s too many!” you shout, deflecting another blow from an Ayfid who pummels your shield with devastating blows from her wings. You swing at her wildly from behind the protective metal, but she laughs and easily dodges each attack. Although the horseman had put you through fairly rigorous training and you’d taken out your fair share of demons, it was never in this quantity and Death had always been at your side. Gritting your teeth, you glance across the battlefield as you step back from the screeching Ayfid. 

Death might as well be a mile away, struggling with an absolutely livid Stalker. It slashes at him, knocking him back into a rock before he can recover. Seeing the horsemen get head butted off his feet disconcerts you. Suddenly, you’ve never felt more vulnerable. 

Rolling beneath a blow from the Ayfid and scurrying around a pouncing gore claw, you cast your eyes over the area, looking for the closest ally. 

“Nathaniel!” you shout, spotting the angel fending off a pair of phantom guards, his wings flared warningly behind him like the sails of a ship. He sees you and spins, whirling his sword through the air and effectively slicing the demons straight through their middles. 

“Y/n!” he calls out to you once he's noticed you waving for his attention. Narrowing his eyes, Nathaniel follows your pointed hand until his eyes zero in on the horseman.

Shouting to be heard over the fierce sound of battle, you cup your hands around your mouth. “HELP DEATH!” 

He nods and hurtles up into the air, but not before whistling loudly to get The Archon’s attention. Lucien glances up from his own fight, easily spearing a Sycophant through it’s eye without even looking. 

Nathaniel bellows, “MASTER, PROTECT Y/N!” before flying down to help the horseman. 

The Archon turns and you wave at him to catch his gaze. But then you pause when his eyes widen and the light under his hood flares brightly in alarm. “Look out, human!”

Frightened, you turn just in time to see a corrupted angel’s fist speeding towards you. There’s a sharp crack, then white hot pain shoots through your skull. Dropping to the hard ground, you struggle to remain conscious, even as you feel sharp fingers tighten around your neck and you’re dragged off the floor.

Lucien’s heart leaps into his throat at the sight of you dangling from his corrupted brethren’s grasp.  
Panic; a strange and new sensation he’s never felt before seizes his heart and sinks it’s ugly claws into the pounding organ. “Y/n?…” he breathes.  
In a blinding flash of pain, the Archon’s mind throws him violently back to the moment when he’d first laid eyes on you. 

——

“Oh my god, I think I killed him.” 

“Good.”

“It’s not good! I was trying to help!” 

“He was beyond help anyway.”

“Wait….I think he moved.” 

Voices - too loud and too close - grate against the Archon’s sensitive ears. A harsh light burns against his eyes when he tries to pry them open. Blinking a few times, Lucien groans and throws an arm across his face, wondering when he had taken to sleeping outside. 

The sharp scrape of metal alerts him to the presence of a threat, though his body couldn’t seem to care less that it was in danger. 

“Death, for goodness sake put your scythes away. Look, he’s not corrupted anymore!” 

Death….Wait…He knows that name. 

The Archon groans loudly, throwing his arm to the side and blinking up into the blue sky. The pleasant view is promptly disturbed by a face. A human face. Eyes with beautifully intricate irises beam down at him, apparently happy for some reason. Upon seeing them, everything that happened comes rushing back. 

Lucien shouts, struggling upright and wincing at the painful ache in the wings he’d just been lying on. He jerks his head to the side and gasps when he sees you, somehow now standing behind a glowering horseman and waving a little when your eyes meet. 

“Feeling better?” you ask cheerfully. Much too cheerfully for someone who’d almost died. 

“I…I..” The angel lifts his hands to his face and squints at them. Actually, he really is feeling better. A lot better. His head feels clearer than it has in eons. Although his body felt drained and every single muscle in it aches something fierce, his mind is….peaceful. There’s almost no trace of anger or animosity. 

“What happened?” he finally asks. 

Grinning proudly, you walk around the horseman’s side and show off the Rod of Arafel. “Ta-da!” you announce in a sing song voice. “A little dose of holy light and BAM! No more corruption.” 

Corruption. He shudders at the memories, so distant now. Like the remnants of a nightmare upon waking. It lingers on the edge of his perception, but if he tried to remember it directly, it slipped away. Sick to his stomach, the Archon bites down hard on his tongue in disgust. 

He was corrupted. Made impure. His soul had been sullied. How dare you save him!

“You should have let me die,” Lucien seethes quietly, glaring hard at you. 

Death snorts, crossing his arms and appraising the angel distastefully. “On that, we can agree.” 

Levelling a scowl at Lucien, you place both hands on your hips.“No. You don’t get off that easily.” 

The Archon’s wings flutter curiously at the sudden seriousness in your tone. 

“You did a lot of bad things,” you continue, “Like, a lot. Now you need to start making up for it.” 

Affronted, the angel snarls, wings ruffling indignantly. “You have the gall, human, to command a defender of the light? Who are you to demand anything of an Archon?” 

This time, Death steps forward, thumbing his scythe’s curved blade. “The same human who saved your sorry hide,” the horseman responds curtly, “whether you like it or not. So I would advise you to set aside that hubris of yours and take Y/n’s advice.”

Grumbling, Lucien begrudgingly averts his gaze and stares out at the horizon. 

That’s how the next few days passed by. The Archon was too weak to move around on his own and although Death insisted upon just leaving him in his tower, you managed to persuade him that Lucien’s help would be beneficial to the quest. Or rather, it had been Nathaniel who pointed out that you probably needed the few days to rest, perhaps even more than the Archon did. It was just lucky that Death seemed to have something of a soft spot for you, which ultimately meant that he reluctantly agreed to remain in Lost Light for a while. 

In that time, you took it upon yourself to ‘entertain’ the Archon. He was reluctant to even talk to you at first, but it wasn't as though he could just leave. And by the time he'd healed enough to move, he realised he wouldn't have helped. He noticed that you'd follow him around the tower, like you were drawn to him by an invisible magnet, asking question after question, constantly checking that he was alright. It was humiliating and unnecessary and thoughtful. He remarked, often, that you never seemed to ask the Death and Nathaniel so many questions, to which you replied, 'I know they're alright. It's you I'm worried about.'  
Sure, you had the horseman and Nathaniel, but Lucien - you soon discovered - was a different kind of company. Some masochistic part of you relished the Archon's snappy retorts and brash criticisms simply because for the first time in a long time, you weren't being treated like you were made of glass. You’d even managed to get him to converse with you in a way that might have been considered friendly. You forced your friendship upon him, determined to make him feel something other than hated, a concept he found entirely bizarre. Even before corruption had taken its hold in his mind, he wasn’t exactly liked. In fact, it was a badly-kept secret that there was hardly an angel who knew the Archon that really liked him. Of course, he didn’t care. He didn’t need a friend. 

Or at least, he’d convinced himself he didn’t. 

But when you started to talk to him, ignored his harsh words and scathing remarks in favour of telling him some stupid story about Earth that he didn’t particularly care about, Lucien began to realise how oddly pleasant it felt to have someone speak to him kindly for a change. Someone who didn’t want a thing from him other than a laugh or two, maybe sometimes a conversation. It also came as a surprise that, despite all stereotypes his people have lain out about humans, you are remarkable cognizant, intelligent even, although he wouldn't ever tell you that.

And how you’d managed to convince the horseman to let Lucien accompany you on the remainder of your journey is still a mystery. He’s not even sure if he wants to help you.  
But then you look at him with those hopeful, glistening eyes and something strange happens.  
It's as if he suddenly can’t say no. 

However, once the pain subsides and your incessant chatter dies down at the end of another day, he becomes aware of a presence at the edge of his mind, something dark and hollow lingering just out of view and whenever he tried to focus on what it was, his mind started feeling fuzzy. He noticed, after a day or so, that you kept the strange feeling at bay, but it disturbed him that it was there at all in the first place. He couldn’t focus on it, but whenever there was a quiet moment and he was alone, or he wasn’t sure where you were, that dark presence pressed against the borders of his psyche. Had he known before-hand what that darkness truly was, he might not have let you get as close as you did. He might have paid more attention to it and at least made a better attempt at suppressing it. Whatever it was that shared his psyche recognised you as the sole reason for his survival. It wanted - he realised with a sinking sensation in his gut - to be near you. All because you'd protected him. You - a human - had protected an Archon at the risk of your own life. 

One little spontaneous decision on your part had thrown every single thing that Lucien had ever thought he knew about humans out the proverbial window. Once, he fully believed your species to be little more than mindless savages and he nearly resents the fact that you'd so easily proven him wrong. He'd watch you from where he was slumped against one of the pillars whilst you slept nearby, Nathaniel's steady hand raising every now and then to stroke your hair when you began to shout and lash out in your sleep. He remembers once, that you'd turned over with your eyes blown wide open and stared right at his face, terrified out of your wits in the drowsy aftershocks of yet another nightmare. He almost expected you to panic upon seeing his face, but whatever you saw in him obviously wasn't a threat, for you relaxed immediately, muttered his name, then rolled right back over as though nothing had happened.  
By the Light, you were a veritable conundrum. Frustrating, unpredictable, naive and nearly heretical in your use of language.  
But you called him 'friend.' Whatever depraved side of Lucien wanted to deny it, that word - friend - sparked a fire in his chest that not even the horseman's icy hands could quell. 

The Archon’s memory begins to fade, bleeding from his mind and forcing him back to the battle at present, the image of your smiling face - the one, genuinely friendly face he’d ever known - lingering until it too fades with a last flash of bright light. 

——-

Lucien's eyes snap open wide and immediately fix on the angel that still has it’s claws wrapped tightly around your delicate neck. The darkness that haunted the outer recesses of his mind finally breaks through the barrier he’d put up to keep it out. A sound like rushing water nearly deafens him whilst a rage, unfiltered and uninhibited roars it’s way up from the depths of his soul. Baring his teeth threateningly, the Archon lets anger take control. The last thing he sees is darkness as it swims down over his eyes, coating them a deep, jet black. 

You flinch at the dark laugh that fills your ears when the corrupted angel squeezes you mercilessly, ignoring the feeble kicking of your legs against its chest plate. “Coradazodizoda….” it hisses, “Teloah adagita coradazodizodaaaaa.”

With your breath cut off, your kicks become weaker and weaker, terror filling your body like a cold, rising tide. ‘This is it,’ you think, ‘After all this time, this is how I die…’ Slowly, your eyes start to flutter closed.

“GE!” something roars behind you. 

Suddenly, the pressure is gone and you drop back to the ground, wheezing and panting whilst clutching frantically at your throat. Glancing up with blurry vision, you make out the large silhouette of the Archon hovering over you with black masses of oozing, oily tendrils whipping and dancing around his body. 

….Wait…

You blink rapidly and shake your head to clear it before staring up at the angel. 

“Lucien?” you croak.

He doesn’t acknowledge the sound of his name, too far gone in his own territorial fury to even hear your words. A thick tendril has wrapped itself around your attacker’s throat and squeezes relentlessly until the former angel’s eyes start to bulge. 

All of a sudden, the truth hits you like a slug to the jaw.

The Archon is still corrupted….

“But….but the Rod of Arafel,” you stammer as he discards the now dead angel’s body, throwing it to the side as though bored, “I..I cleansed you!” 

Lucien’s wings are dripping black liquid and his eyes flash dangerously, teeth bared and fists clenched. He looks positively animalistic. A frenzied shriek sounds out at your back and both the Archon and you whirl about to see a pair of Sycophants and an Ayfid rushing to your position, weapons and claws raised menacingly. 

“Shit!” You scramble for your dropped shield, but you don’t get far before something slams to the ground all around you and a heavy presence weighs down on top of your head. You cover your face to stop dust and bits of dirt flicking into your eyes. Then, you gaze up and gasp. 

The corrupted Archon is crouched over you, one hand braced against the ground whilst the other is raised high above his head and curled into a fist. He’s bent low, crowding you between the floor and his armoured chest. His wings extend high into the air and spread out widely, making himself look far larger than he already is. There's a small moment where time seems to slow right down, a moment in which the angel slowly bends his head to glance down at the tiny human sitting beneath his bulk. Your eyes meet his and hold for a second, then the Archon raises his head and lets out a bone-shattering roar of outrage at the approaching attackers.

Across the battlefield, Death’s head snaps up. His sharp eyes pick out the shape of Lucien and they widen when he sees what the angel has become. 

“No,”Nathaniel breathes, following Death’s gaze, “It can’t be.” 

The horseman bristles. “Damn it. I knew it!” They both start to make their way towards you but all of a sudden, Death throws his arm out in front of his angelic companion and they jerk to a halt. 

It was only for a millisecond, but he'd definitely felt something. 

There was a pull at the universe around them, dark and foreboding. It pulses through the air like a sick heartbeat, growing rapidly in intensity, rippling past them so forcefully, they can feel the physical resistance against their bodies. It feels oppressive and downright dangerous. And at the epicentre of the strange, dark power, stands the Archon. 

Death’s eyes burst open with realisation.

Searching between the flurry of feathers, he manages to catch sight of you, curled up beneath the angel. It’s too late to reach you, but maybe if you were directly under Lucien, you’d be safe. The horseman doesn't like it, but it's the only chance you've got. 

“Move,” Death urges, shoving Nathaniel backwards towards a large, sturdy-looking rock. 

“Horseman? Wha-”

“MOVE!” Without waiting for protest, Death turns and sprints towards the boulder, confused angel in tow. Both of them leap over it, then slam themselves flat against the surface of rock, just in time. 

A beat passes. 

Then- 

An explosion of raw energy surges from the Archon’s body like a tidal wave, slamming into every demon and corrupted angel in it’s path, disintegrating them effortlessly in a fire of unholy light. The wave tears past Nathaniel and Death’s hiding spot, which withers and cracks under the pressure, but otherwise holds fast. 

The energy doesn’t let up for a good twenty seconds and all the while, Death can hear your screams mingling with the Archon’s furious uproar. 

‘Good,’ the horseman thinks, ‘If you’re screaming, it means you’re still alive.’  
After what seems like an eternity, everything falls silent, save for the whimpers of a terrified human and the ragged, huffing breaths of the wild-eyed angel.

After waiting for a few more moments, Death and his companion venture around the rock and survey the damage. There isn’t a single enemy left on the field. Even the bodies of fallen demons have vanished, leaving behind only blackened scorch marks in the grass.

“Well,” Death rumbles, mildly impressed, “that’s one way to win a battle.” 

As the two trudge over to Lucien, you nervously pull your hands away from your ringing ears to peer up at his heaving chest, eyes traveling up to the underside of his chin. 

Nervously, you lick your lips and whisper, “Archon?” 

No response. 

You try again. “A-archie?” 

The angel’s head snaps down so rapidly, it elicits a startled shriek from you. Kicking at the dirt, you scrabble backwards and out between his legs before he slowly turns around, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Y/n!” 

Nathaniel’s shout fills you with relief. 

Almost weeping, you get to your feet and shift to face them, delighted to see both of your friends speeding towards you. “Guys!” 

Nathaniel reaches you first, opening his arms to invite you into a protective embrace, but just as his fingertips touch yours, a black tendril slides around your waist and you’re suddenly ripped from his grasp and pulled backwards towards the Archon, screaming as you go. 

You collide with the angel’s chest and a mass of writhing tentacles twist and coil around you both, shielding you from view of the horseman and Nathaniel. The two draw their weapons and level them at the Archon, who gnashes his teeth madly, all whilst caging you in his arms. 

“M I N E!” he thunders. The tendrils have almost completely surrounded the both of you now. They curl and pulse with malicious magic and at the middle of it all, you dangle helplessly in his guarding, albeit gentle grip. 

“Lucien! What are you doing!?” you shout in an attempt to get through to the angel. When he doesn’t answer, you wriggle, trying to loosen his hold. That gets a reaction. 

From outside, the others hear a low, rumbling voice permeate the black sphere of inky tentacles. “Ssssaaaaaaffffeeeeeee,” something hisses.  
Death’s knuckles are white against Harvester’s hilt and he starts for the Archon, but Nathaniel’s hand on his shoulder stops his advance. 

The horseman whips his head up to look at the solemn angel and he rips himself free. “I have to do something. He’s killing Y/n!” 

Hurriedly, Nathaniel shakes his head and sheathes his sword. “Nay, horseman,” he explains, “I believe he’s trying to protect our young friend.” 

Both angel and horseman turn back to look at the roiling ball of dark corrupted energy. 

“What do we do?” Death finally asks through clenched teeth. 

“He thinks we’re a threat.” The golden-armoured angel begins to back slowly away from the Archon and motions for Death to do the same. “If you attack him now, you only risk exacerbating the situation.” 

Every grain of the horseman’s being tells him not to back down from Lucien’s tumultuous behaviour, but he makes himself suck in a deep, calming breath before sheathing Harvester and slowly stepping back. 

Almost instantly, the mess of tendrils stop flailing around quite so much. Instead of thrashing about, they start to sway gently and the heavy pressure in the air dissipates slightly. 

Still pressed against the Archon’s chest by his corrupted extensions, you shakily look down at the ground. Every time you try to wriggle free, he growls possessively and the tendrils holding you to him tighten their hold. 

‘Right,’ you think, ‘talking it is.’ 

Craning your neck up to try and see his face, you hesitantly stroke one hand over the arm that he has pressed against your stomach. He stiffens at your touch. 

“Archon? It’s okay. You did it. You won. Please, let me go now..” 

The light behind his hood grows brighter and he twitches his head to look down at you. 

You feel as though you’re making some progress but the sight of his inky, black eyes is disturbing and reminds you that this is the corrupted Archon you’re talking to. A force that, not all that long ago, had tried to straight up murder you. “Listen to me,” you soothe, trying to keep the nerves out of your voice, “I know you’re in there. Archie-” At the sound of his nickname, Lucien’s gaze brightens a little more. “-You’re scaring me. Please. Let me go?” 

“Sssscarreeddd?” The grip on your torso goes slack and you drop a few inches before it suddenly catches you again. Then, more gently, you’re lowered to the ground. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you whip around to look up at the Archon, who’s flared wings are finally starting to droop. 

“Keep talking to him, Y/n,” Nathaniel murmurs from somewhere outside the black cocoon. At the sound of the intruder’s voice, Lucien’s head raises again and he hisses, but you hurriedly swallow hard and raise a hand to touch the tendrils that are still wrapped around your waist. Thinking quickly, you realise that telling him you were scared had some effect on his behaviour. Maybe you could try something similar. 

“Archon, my chest - You’re hurting me.” As if to emphasise the point, you give the tendril around your middle a good tug. “I’m hurt, Archon! I need help.”

It worked better than you could have imagined. 

Immediately, the sphere of black tendrils disperses, retreating back into the Archon’s body and revealing you to your other two companions outside. Both sag visibly, relieved, but neither dare move just yet.

You gaze sadly up at the Archon as he lands heavily on the soft earth and sighs, exhausted. The corruption on his wings seeps back into the silvery feathers, disappearing as though it were never there to begin with and you notice that his eyes have finally returned to their usual, bright, white glow. They stare down at you, unblinking, confused and frustrated and entirely overwhelmed by the influx of strange, new emotions. 

Stepping towards your friend, you offer him a quivering smile. “Welcome back.” 

To your dismay, Lucien matches your step forward by darting back a couple of feet, away from you and the others. “No! Stay away,” he snaps. 

“Archie,” you mutter, hit with the guilt that you’d manipulated him into feeling like he needed to keep himself as far from you as possible. 

He curls his hands into fists and snarls when he sees the fresh bruises forming on your neck. The rage begins to rear its head again, but he squashes it down aggressively. He can’t deal with this right now. There are too many feelings he can’t decipher. He has to get away from you. You’re the culprit. This is all your fault! What have you done to him!? 

“I..this is…” The Archon furrows his brow and shakes his head at you, taking a few more steps back. “I need to think.” 

With that, he turns, spreads his four wings and beats them powerfully, propelling himself into the air. He spares you one last, anguished glance, ignoring the way his heart judders when you meet his eye. Then, casting his focus to the tower, he flies off, leaving you, Death and Nathaniel behind.


	2. Toska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You return to the spire, determined to seek Lucien out and give him another shot at joining you. There, you end up confiding in him something you haven't even told Death, and the angel isn't sure how to react.

“I’m going after him.” The long, lush grass of Lost Light sways and tickles your exposed ankles as you shoulder your leather knapsack and fasten the light, metal shield to its strap on your back. Making certain that you have your sword secured in its sheath, you throw a wave over your shoulder at Death and Nathaniel. “I’ll catch up with you later. You guys go on ahead.”

You only manage to take a few steps before there’s a skeletal hand clamping down on your upper arm, jerking you to a halt.

“Y/n.” Death’s voice is grave. “The Archon is still corrupted.”

Shrugging out of the horseman’s grip, you turn to frown up into his burning eyes. “So?”

“ _So_ ,” Nathaniel intervenes, “he’s still a danger. To you specifically, if you go back there.”

“But he _saved_ me!”

“Yes and he almost _killed_ the two of us,” Death grumbles, "Not to mention that you're in no shape to go gallivanting off on your own."

Nodding, the angel continues, "I'm amazed you're unscathed at _all_. You saw that power? That energy my master exuded? If Death had not recognised it when he did, I doubt that we would be standing here now. It was dark magic, certainly not of angelic origin. I believe you were able to survive because you were beneath him. The wave moved out, not down...” He drifts closer, landing heavily and letting his wings droop with unmistakable worry. “Y/n, if he were to lose control like that again-”

“-There would be no guarantee of your safety,” the horseman finishes.

“Since when has my safety ever been guaranteed?” you snap. Death’s eyes widen, not hurt, per-se, but certainly taken aback. Guilt makes you bite your lip but exasperation wins out and you rub two fingers over your temples in circular motions, just as the doctor had taught you. “Okay, look. What Lucien’s done - it’s terrible, some of it unforgivable, I get that. But, he was corrupted-”

“He still is,” Death snaps.

“Hmm…Maybe not…”

You and the horseman turn to stare curiously at Nathaniel, who has his chin in hand and appears to be deep in thought. When he spots the hard glare Death is shooting at him, Nathaniel raises a finger into the air. “Ah, now I’m not insinuating that going back alone is a good idea. I’m saying, Y/n cleansed Lucien with Arafel,” he hums, “or so we thought.”

With a grumble, Death rolls his eyes skyward. “This cryptical mood you’re in isn’t helping, Nathaniel,” he huffs, “If you’ve a point, make it.”

“Perhaps our young, human friend here managed to cleanse just enough of the Archon to grant him back his sanity. But-” He holds up a hand to silence the horseman from letting out another sharp bark of laughter. “-corruption wasn’t entirely banished, obviously. What if there’s a dormant strain of it lingering in Lucien’s mind? A strain that only becomes active under…. certain conditions?” He looks down at you expectantly.

Humming curiously, you frown at the ground in concentration, trying to remember when he changed exactly. "He....He seemed fine right up until that other angel got a hold of me....Then he just....snapped, I guess. I don't know, it all happened so fast."

Death shakes his head, dark hair swishing back and forth. “Well. Dormant or no,” he sighs, “it hardly makes a difference. Corruption still exists within him, it must be eradicated. If it is left unchecked, it could spread to another host.”

“You can’t know that!” you protest.

“You’ve _seen_ it happen! We’re damn lucky it didn’t infect **you** this time. You saw how quickly he let it take over. The Archon needs to die!”

Echoing off the canyon walls, Death’s shout leaves little room for argument. But you still try anyway. Easily matching the horseman’s challenging gaze, you remember that you’ve been travelling with him long enough to have picked up a few tricks of your own. Wringing your hands, you decide to use the most effective weapon you have in your arsenal. You tilt the corners of your mouth down sadly, duck your head a little and finally blink up with wide eyes and a furrowed brow at the glowering horseman. “Please, Death. Just give him a chance to prove that he can control it! He-he could be invaluable to the mission! We might need his help. I mean, having the Archon on our side wouldn’t be such a bad deal...”

Death opens his mouth to argue that he doesn’t need anyone’s help, but one look at your determined, infuriatingly well-meaning face and he barely stops the groan that threatens to spill past his lips. He knows this tactic. Annoyingly, after a mere week of being with him, you'd become well aware that your presence had....altered the eldest horseman's demeanour into something a little warmer. Once you'd discovered this, he noticed that you began to use your powers for evil and often deployed an exceptionally pathetic expression that resonates with just the right place in his chest to make him falter. Death _hates_ that he's got a soft spot. He absolutely _detests_ it. He wants to dig Harvester into his skin and cut the soft spot out. But he knows he can't. You'd simply ensure that another grows in it's place.

“You,” he gripes after a moment of wrestling with his tongue, “are a pest, of the highest order. I hope you know that.” Pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose, Death squeezes his eyes shut and mutters to himself. “I’ll never hear the end of it unless I take you back, will I?”

You shrug playfully. “Probably not.”

Heaving out a long-suffering sigh, the horseman lets his hand drop and fixes you with a stern glare. At the same time, a long, sharp whistle echoes through the canyon, followed shortly by a whirlwind of sickly green light that explodes from the ground and a spectral whinny pierces the still air. Snorting and pawing at the scorched grass, Despair throws his head back and glares down at Death. “Apologies, old friend.” The horseman hefts you up into the saddle, settling himself into the seat behind you. “I know you’re tired of running back and forth between the tree and the spire. But, if you’ve a problem with it-” He clocks you gently on the back of your head with his knuckles“- I’m afraid you’ll have to take it up with Y/n here.”

The horse turns its head to the side to shoot you a flat, unimpressed gaze.

“ _Sorry pal._ ” You lean forwards and give his neck a firm pat.

Death clicks his tongue and Despair obediently sets a steady pace forwards. "Do you want us with you when you confront him?" Nathaniel asks, falling into pace next to the horse and smiling softly up at you. 

"No," you shake your head, "that's alright."

The horseman makes a disgruntled sound behind you as Nathaniel replies, "Are you quite certain? I don't think that's-" 

"Would you both stop worrying about it? Just trust me, he won't do anything."

"We _do_ trust you," Death mutters quietly, adding, "against our better judgement. But the _Archon_ is a different story."  A hand falls onto your shoulder and the horseman leans forward to talk firmly into your ear. "We'll stay back, but we will be close by if you need us. And if I hear _anything_ that sounds even remotely like a human in pain-" 

Quickly waving him away, you roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah. My _hero_."

Death falls silent. 

With Nathaniel hovering dutifully above, your odd little group makes the trek back towards the Crystal Spire, each with a plan in mind of how best to tackle the volatile Archon residing within. —–

The Spire stands tall, stark white and glistening gold against the darkening sky.

Home.

The Archon sighs into the cool breeze as he swoops down towards the extended landing platform. He slams onto it with enough force to bring him to his knees, then he staggers bitterly to his feet. Immediately, Lucien’s gaze is drawn to the twin suns that slowly start their descent behind the Ivory Citadel’s sweeping skyline. A frown creases his brow when he recalls, for some inane reason, that you’d once mentioned how much you love sunsets. Why in the name of Heaven did he care what you love?!

Lucien snarls, slamming his fist against one of the marble pillars that encircle the portal to Earth. Frustration eats away at his resolve and as it crumbles, he becomes aware of the corruption’s twisted influence darkening the very edges of his vision. “Curse this blight,” Lucien hisses through clenched teeth, “Curse this Rod. Curse the horseman!”

Whirling about with his wings flaring furiously at his back, he bellows, “AND CURSE THAT DAMNABLE HUMAN TOO!”

Incapable of processing the jumble of unwelcome feelings, the Archon elects to brood over the perceived object of his frustration. You. You with all your stupid, innocent charm and labyrinthine irises that threaten to drown him every time he looks into them…. ‘This is not helping.’ He falls into a sour mood, grumbling as he paces back and forth across his tower. The first sun has only just vanished completely beyond the horizon when he hears soft little footsteps pattering up the stairs. Visibly, the Archon tenses, fighting back the strange urge he feels to turn and greet you. The corruption - until now, perfectly placid inside his mind - suddenly rears it’s ugly head upon sensing that you’re near.

“Archon?”

Gritting his teeth, he ignores you, stopping his incessant pacing mid stride to stare out at the remaining sun. Part of him hopes you’d leave then and there if he didn’t answer straight away, but if there was one thing the Archon had learned in the short time he’d known you, it’s that you don’t tend to give up so easily.

“Lucien, are you alright?”

To Hell with your stupid voice. The concern actually sounds natural, not forced. You have no right to come back here, just as you had no right to interfere when the horseman was about to kill him. Lucien grinds his teeth. You find the Archon staring out at the citadel with his back to you, all four of his wings quivering, though whether it’s the breeze that ruffles his feathers or something more sinister, you cannot say. Sighing, slightly relieved to find the angel here at all, you step up behind him.

“Hey?” you call nervously when he still doesn’t acknowledge your arrival, “You really worried us back there. Why’d you fly off like that?”

Your words give him pause. _'Worried? About **him**?'_ But _nobody_ worries about him. Suddenly the angel's heart is thumping uncontrollably. ‘ _Odd_ ,’ he muses. Perhaps most disturbing is that corruption is currently heaving against the mental shackles he’s put up to contain it. It strains and thrashes in his mind’s prison, determined - for whatever reason - to get closer to the strange, little human that saved it's life…… If he could just. _Get_. **_Closer_**.

This is getting dangerous fast. If he loses control and _you're_ around, the horseman will put him down for good. Lucien nearly laughs aloud. He's trying so hard to fool himself into thinking that _self_ preservation is his top priority, but that couldn't be further from the truth. The silence stretches noticeably until at last, he exhales, long and low and deceptively calm. “You need to leave,” he whispers.

You tilt your head. “Huh?”

Without warning, the light beneath the Archon’s hood flashes brilliantly and he whips around, wings swept threateningly to either side of his gigantic body. “ ** _I  S A I D  L E A V E_** !” His aggressive roar frightens the life out of you. Stumbling backwards at the sudden ferocity, you lose your footing and fall painfully onto your backside.

Blinking, Lucien’s anger dissipates and his glaringly bright light dims microscopically at the sight of you cringing away from him on the hard ground. Guilt. A feeling as unfamiliar as it is unwanted creeps up his spine and settles in the back of his throat. But then, he remembers why he’s angry in the first place. He stomps closer, bearing down on you, wings flapping. There’s hate, just as there has always been. But for the first time in his life, that hate isn’t directed outwardly and the implications behind that fact disturb him more than he’d care to admit. “Everything was going to be alright,” he snarls, though his voice is strained and his eyes are desperate, “The horseman would have ended me. Death would have been my _atonement_.”

Horrified, you lift an arm and hold it in front of your face as a pointless means of protection. Black eyes glare down at you, no longer the white-gold pair you’ve become used to and there are vines of darkness flailing out from beneath Lucien’s armour, several reach towards you, although he doesn’t seem to notice. “But then,” he continues, “ _you_ showed up. I was ready to die! You _stole_ my honourable death and for that alone, I should **kill** you!”

The Archon’s hands tighten over the Rod of Arafel, the head of it sparking to life in harmony with his flaring temper. Magic crackles and spits when he raises the weapon into the air, eyes wide and manic.

Once again, you find yourself beneath his impressive bulk, but this time you face a wildly different threat. It's tough to admit it, but his words hurt more than the bruises on your neck. “ _Archie_?” you whimper, " _I was just trying to help_."

For a brief instance, through the haze of corruption, Lucien sees you - actually _sees_ you- trembling and worried, down on the floor at his feet with wide, frightened eyes. Maybe once, he’d’ve said you belonged there. Now, however……

Gradually, his fingers slacken their grip on Arafel and his brows lose their tension. He’d caught sight of himself in the reflection of your eyes and found he disliked what he saw. At last, Lucien tosses the rod to the ground with a strangled shout. Trembling, the angel stands where he is, huffing and doing what he can to reign in his wild emotions. Once again, he’d let himself get overwhelmed and it had almost gotten you hurt. At this point, he's too tired to reprimand himself for caring. 

Soft pinpricks of light begin to shine in his blackened eyes, growing and expanding until they’re bright once more. He notices that one of his tendrils has been caressing your cheek so he jerks it back, coercing the vile thing away from you and shuddering visibly when it slithers back between the cracks in his armour. “What have you done to me?” he moans softly, staggering away from your prone body, “You didn’t cleanse me. You _broke_ me.” Right now, you aren't sure if he’s talking to you, or the rod of Arafel. Still, he carries on, “I’m corrupted. But now, I remain painfully _aware_ of the fact. And it **_sickens_** me!” Utterly defeated, Lucien’s wings droop and he loses any trace of the previous aggression. He turns away from you to slowly trudge towards the tower’s edge, overlooking the city again. “I would sooner die,” he admits, “than live with this thing inside me.” A hand claws at his chest plate before going limp at his side again.

Behind him, Lucien hears you gulp and scrabble to your feet. He listens, waiting for the sound of your retreating footsteps to scurry down the steps, back to the relative safety of your guardians down at the bottom of the spire. Only he never hears it. Instead, his ears twitch at the soft footfalls that tiptoe hesitantly closer. The Archon lifts a wing to peer underneath it at you, surprised that despite his violent outburst, you hadn’t fled. Had you always been so foolhardy? No wonder the horseman is so watchful....

You set your jaw, strolling purposefully beneath the raised wing, only flinching slightly when the feathers brush ticklishly over the top of your head. Ignoring his curious gaze, you stand a metre or so closer to the spire’s edge, blinking into the dying sun. Together, the angel and the human take a moment to soak in the last rays of daylight. Eventually, you know that something needs to be said. The words catch in your throat however, because for the first time, you’re voicing aloud some of your darkest thoughts, to someone you’ve barely known a week. But as you open your mouth, they come out easier than you’d anticipated.

“You…you really think you’re the only person here who’s wanted to die?”

A rustling of feathers and clanking of armour let you know that he’s shifted back in mild shock. Still staring out over the darkening horizon, you take a deep breath then exhale slowly.

The Archon watches your hair dance in the wind, the sight of it calms him slightly. However, having been rendered incapable of responding to such a statement, he falls back to his default setting; defensive. “What would _you_ know?” he grumbles, “you’re just a human.”

Apparently, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. He actually jumps a little when you stamp your foot and hurl yourself around to face him. Covering the distance to the flummoxed angel, you stop barely a foot from his boots, trying not to let the fact that your head barely reaches his elbow intimidate you. He cranes his neck to look down at you and you respond by willing yourself not to blink into those bright, golden eyes. “I know, alright!” you seethe, “I may be ’ _just a human_ ,’ but I know _exactly_ what it means when you say you’d rather die than go another day living the way you are!” A shuddering breath catches you off guard so you’re forced to stop and swallow thickly.

Breaking eye contact, figuring it’s not worth him seeing you cry, you lower your head to your shoes and clench your hands into fists. “It’s not all about _you_ , Archon,” you mutter spitefully, “I’m sorry I didn’t want to let Death _kill_ you, okay? Sorry I thought there was something in there worth saving and I'm so _SORRY_ I thought you deserved another _chance!"_

Lucien’s light blazes suddenly, though not in anger. “You…..” He clears his throat, pressing a fist to his mouth. “You think I’m….deserving?” He nearly laughs incredulously. “But, I’m corrupted.”

“So what? Nathaniel think it’s just in it’s dormancy. You saved me from those Sycophants, despite the corruption. S'far as I’m concerned, we’re square.” You give him a wink, causing the enormous angel to tilt his head in confusion. How could you be so solemn one moment and then playful the next? Nothing about you makes much sense to him.

Then, you waggle your finger up at him. “But, that doesn’t mean you can start pulling this ‘ _oooh I’m the only one who gets to feel bad_ ’ bs. Alright? Because….because you’re _not_ ….”

The spire glistens beautifully in the red hues of sundown as quiet consumes you both once more. A star has appeared on the horizon and you frown gently.

“Can I tell you something?”

The Archon rolls his eyes. “If you must.”

“It’s something I’ve…Well, I’ve never actually told anyone this. Not even Death," you confess stiffly. 

A secret? One you _hadn’t_ shared with your closest friend? Suddenly, Lucien finds himself intrigued. There’s a certain allure in knowing something about you that nobody else does. He can’t quite explain it, but it’s almost as though there’ll soon be a part of you that’s privy to _him_ , and him alone. Darkness clouds the angel’s senses, filled with curious desperation to have something about you that only he will possess. Something that’s….

' _All_ ….’

’ **M i n e**.’

“Archon?”

He blinks. “Hmm?”

“I said, d'you promise not to tell anyone?”

Shaking off the possessive thoughts, doubtless born of corruption, Lucien waves his hand impatiently. “Yes, yes. I promise.”

You squint up at him, suspicious. “Cross your heart?”

“I-” He raises a brow “- _what_?”

Letting out a stern huff, you fold your arms over your chest and give him an expectant stare. “Cross your heart that you won’t tell Death.”

With a sharp exhale, the angel roves his eyes up to the cloudless sky, but regardless, he drags a finger over the armour where his heart would be, muttering something about 'odd human practices.’

“There," he states gruffly, “the ritual is complete. Now you are honour bound to tell me your secret.” The angel winces at the modicum of eagerness he'd failed to keep out of his tone. 

“Okay.” You scratch the back of your neck, looking over your shoulder at the staircase as though you’re expecting the horseman to appear at any moment.

The last sun finally descends out of view and in its absence, the world feels just a bit colder.

“I’m really tired, Lucien,” you finally breathe, “Like, _really_ tired. That’s what I tell Death whenever he asks, ’ _Y/n! Why didn’t you get out of the way of that Trauma?_ ’ or ’ _Y/n! Watch where you’re going! That falling boulder could have crushed you flat!_ ’ I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m just being useless or lazy or something. But the truth is-” Here, you hesitate, turning away from the Archon to hide your face whilst wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to pull some, small comfort from hugging yourself, “-Sometimes, I just don’t _want_ to get out of the way. I’m just like, 'if this is how it happens, then this is how it happens,’ you know?”

Awed horror trickles down the Archon's spine at your words. “You seek death?” he murmurs, breathless all of a sudden.

Without warning, a deluge of pain lances through the angel's heart. ‘ _NO_!’ his mind screams. ‘ _Keep_. _Safe_ ….’

Angling yourself towards the angel again, you reach up and touch the back of his hand. The corrupted side of him hums contentedly, but the Archon pulls away, backing up a step or two and throwing his hands up defensively. “No, don’t,” he says softly, “I might-” But before he can show any more weakness, he cuts himself off with a snarl and whirls away from you, outwardly angry but inwardly anxious. ’ _I might hurt you_ ,’ he was going to say, although for some reason, he couldn’t face saying it aloud. As if saying so would make it true. Honestly, the veritable cyclone of feelings is giving the poor angel whiplash.

Suddenly, the feeling of a tiny hand grabbing onto the armour at his hip causes Lucien to freeze. He lifts an arm, peering down at the human who’s now clinging to him whilst meeting his eyes imploringly. “You said you wanted to kill me because I saved you, but how do _you_ know _I_ wanted to be saved during that fight?”

“I…didn’t know,” he says slowly.

“And would it have made a difference if you _did_?”

The Archon studies you for a long time, taking in as much as he can. From the moisture glistening in your eyes to the way your knuckles turn white because you're gripping his armour so tightly.

Finally, defeatedly, Lucien strides languidly away from you to the edge of the spire. You gape as he drops all regal poise and splendour in favour of collapsing to the floor, swinging his legs over the side of the tower and humming, thoughtful.

“ _No_ ,” he whispers when you cautiously tread around to his side.

For a second, you falter, unsure of whether it would be appropriate to join him. Then you simply shrug and drop to your rear as well, though less noisily, crossing your legs as you scoot just a little closer into his side. Lucien's hood swivels around, following your movements until you’re settled beneath two of his magnificent wings that rustle lightly in the wind. It reminds you of the breeze blowing through willow branches back home. "No it would not." He peers down at you and his voice raises in volume, almost defensively. "But I couldn't just stand by and watch that -that _thing_ get it's rancid claws all over you! I had to do _something!_ " 

“Well, in that case,” you beam happily up into the Archon’s face, “I can’t see that you’re a bad guy at all.”

At his puzzled, if not exasperated look, you try to jostle his side with an elbow, though you probably only ended up bruising it, meanwhile he didn’t budge a millimetre. “Even though you were corrupted, you still _chose_ to do the right thing and save me! I think you’re more in control than you realise.” Lucien becomes quiet for a time, so you content yourself with focusing on the myriad of stars that have begun to appear, at last.

“You said, you believe I deserved a second chance.”

At the sound of Lucien’s voice, you drag your eyes off the heavens to offer him a small, genuine grin. “I mean, _yeah_ , duh. You’ve still got a long way to go to reach redemption…” You glance pointedly at the Ivory Citadel and he grimaces. “But hey, you’re _getting_ there. I can tell you’re already trying to be a better person. You didn’t outright kill me earlier when I pissed you off.” The Archon huffs and mutters under his breath, words you can just make out. “ _Couldn’t if I wanted to_..”

You open your mouth to coax a conversation out of the suddenly tight-lipped angel, but at that moment, a shout from behind makes you jump.

“Y/n?” It’s Death’s voice, coming from down the steps a ways.

Standing up, you brush yourself off and go to reply, “Yeah, almost rea- Oh!”

Somehow, the Archon had gone from sitting to standing without you having heard a _thing_ and in one motion, he’d swept you behind himself and taken up a protective stance with his wings blown wide open. Presently, the horseman appears at the top of the staircase and he fixes Lucien with a critical glare. “Are you alright?” the rider calls over to you. Nodding, you brush your hand absently over the Archon’s soft, trembling wing bone. “Yeah, we’re fine. You just startled him- _ahem_ \- I mean, us. We’ll be there in a minute!”

After letting the angel feel the searing heat from his gaze for a minute longer, the horseman nods and turns, heading back down the tower.

“Um, Archon? You’re doing it again." At the sound of the angel uncomfortably cleaning his throat, you can’t help but smirk.

Lucien quickly drops his aggressive pose, feeling sheepish at the outburst. “Your horseman should learn not to sneak up on people,” he gripes, moving aside to let you trot past him.

You snicker gleefully. “I’ve been telling him that for _weeks_! I don’t think he’ll ever learn.”

The Archon’s holy light burns hotly at the sound of your laughter and he fights ardently against the twitch of his lonely soul that reels as you move further away from him. How in Heaven’s name do you keep _doing_ that?

Strolling elegantly after you towards the staircase, he quirks a brow when you slow down to a stop just before the first step. “Arch?” Biting your lip, you beckon him closer. Curious, the Archon bends down to one knee, the best way to be nearer your face if you wanted to whisper something. You look uncertain and nervous, glancing over your shoulder to check that the horseman isn’t standing behind you. “Do you really promise not to tell Death about what I said? It’s just that, he’s done so much to keep me alive, I-I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful or anything.”

Annoyed that he'd given you his word but you still don't seem to completely believe him, the angel scowls. But, in response, he thumps a fist against his chest. “Upon my honour,” Lucien avows, “Your secret dies with me.”

He probably would have said something more, but he’s too bewildered by a small human flinging their arms around his shoulders, rumpling up his hood and burying their face in the crook of his neck.

“ _Thanks_   _Lucien_.” The darker recesses of the Archon's mind screech giddily. The rest of him, unfamiliar with such displays of blatant affection, nervously flexes his fingers, gathering the nerve to return the embrace. But before his hands can come to rest on your back, you’re pulling away, dropping the several inches back onto solid ground and turning to dart down the stairs, leaving a very bewildered, very touch-starved angel in your wake. It takes him several moments to notice that his arms are still outstretched, hovering uncertainly around a body that's no longer there. Again, something in him yearns to chase you down those steps, keeping you within eyesight and arms reach. He thinks back to what you said about wanting to your own life to end. Personally, he's not sure he sees the point, humans live such short lifespans anyway. However, that thought proves little comfort and does nothing to quell the worry squirming in his belly. 

“Upon my honour,” the Archon repeats as he stands to his full height, folding four wings across his back, “No harm shall befoul that human.” Deep in his mind, Corruption rumbles in agreement with its host.


	3. Blunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the inevitable descent into Hell, your small party makes a quick pitstop in the makers’ realm to complete an errand and recuperate from the ambush in Lost Light. Unfortunately, the Archon’s grasp on the corrupted part of himself is slipping…. One little push is all it will take to send him toppling over the edge, so when you get caught in an accident, it spells bad news for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh. Not so sure about this chapter :S

The Makers’ realm – as Lucien is soon to discover – is about as bland and unappealing as it’s people.

When Death ushered you through the portal at the Tree of Life, Lucien groaned loudly at the sight of the imposing stone figures that stand in their silent vigil at its base, his mood only soured by his fellow angel, Nathaniel’s exuberant exclamations of excitement.

Perhaps the Archon would have been able to muster up the will to toss his companion a sarcastic sneer had his temper not already been so foul. It’s all to do with you. Lately, everything always seems to circle back to _you_.

The enormous angel glowers down at the back of your neck as you trot obediently after Death, Nathaniel chatting animatedly at your side with Lucien bringing up the rear. Your hoodie is pulled up over your head so that it covers the bruises from your run in with those sycophants back in Lost Light. But the Archon knows that they’re there, beneath the fabric….And the corrupted part of him knows it too. A screech echoes around in his head, lashing out wildly against the confines of his mind in a bid to make it’s frustration known. Lucien’s jaw clenches tightly along with his fists, the metal of his vambraces clanking and creaking under the pressure. Nostrils flaring, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to force the primal corruption to behave itself. Admittedly, he’s thoroughly annoyed at this childish fondness for you that’s begun growing on his heart like a festering parasite.

The angry buzzing in his head grows deafeningly loud….

“Lucien?”

His eyes snap open, pulled from his concentration by a timid voice calling his name and at the sound of it, Corruption recedes, placated if only for the moment.

The Archon peers down at you and blinks in surprise to notice that the odd little group has stopped outside a large, circular doorway leading into a lusciously green tunnel. He also takes note of the suspicious looks that Death and Nathaniel are levelling at him.

“You okay?” you ask, throwing a wary glance at his clenched fists.

Stubborn as ever, The Archon huffs and pointedly averts his gaze, forcing himself to visually relax. “Have we _finally_ arrived?” he snaps instead. Behind you, Death tuts and rolls his amber eyes then turns to stalk deeper into the tunnel. You and Nathaniel share a shrug before following after the horseman.

“Almost,” you reply casually.

Before long, your party arrives at the place where the tunnel opens out into a large cavern with waterfalls tumbling down into a dazzlingly clear pool at the bottom of a deep chasm separating you from the makers’ town beyond.

Easy as winking, Death scales the stone wall at the side where a path conveniently cuts around the outskirts of the tunnel. Nathaniel follows his lead, flitting up onto the higher ground with a single beat of his wings before turning to kneel down and extend his hand over the ledge towards you.

“May I?” he offers.

With a broad smile, you reach up and take hold of his large gauntlet, then brace your feet against the wall. The angel begins to lift you, but without warning, your foot slips on a loose rock. It wouldn’t have been a painful fall by any means, but you’d rather not’ve slammed face-first into such a hard surface. However, before you do, an enormous hand suddenly stops you, the palm pressing into your stomach and holding you away from the wall.

Exhaling with a sharp gasp, you let go of Nathaniel and instead grip the fingers currently wrapped around your midsection.

“ _Try_ to be more careful,” Lucien scolds as he slowly lifts you up and deposits you gently on the ground next to Nathaniel, who flashes him a curious look before bending to help you upright. Meanwhile, the Archon uses his superior height to simply step up and onto the platform beside you both. Equally as amazed as the smaller angel, you dust yourself off and smile up at Lucien. “Thanks!” you chirp gratefully, receiving a small nod in response.

Ahead of you, Death sticks his head around the corner of the great, stone entranceway. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I walking too fast for you? Should I slow down?” he mocks with a condescending lilt.

Without hesitation, you playfully bite back, “ _Yeah_ , actually. You wanna slow it down a touch? Not everyone’s got your _long_ , lanky legs.” The irony of the joke flies way over the angels’ heads, both of whom glance skeptically down at their own appendages, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Death’s eyes narrow at your cheeky retort. “You keep making jokes about my height,” he scoffs, “But are we forgetting who the shortest one here is?”

Shrugging, you hastily jog over to him and dig your elbow into his side. “Death, _everyone_ we’ve met so far has been taller than you. Don’t be mad just because I’m hitting you with cold, hard facts.”

There’s a thoughtful pause, after which the horseman asks, “What about the Crowfather?”

You snort and throw your hands up into the air, pretending to concede. “OOOoooh, you’re taller than an old man! Well, forgive my _stupidity_!”

“Not to worry. There’s no need to apologise for something you can’t help.”

The Archon and Nathaniel watch you gasp and shove the horseman as hard as you can, though it doesn’t actually move him an inch. They share a glance, one looking highly amused whilst the other appears slightly nauseous until the former simply pats his companion on the shoulder light-heartedly and they fall into step behind you and Death.

There’s the sound of clashing metal that reaches everyones’ ears as they step, blinking into the bright sunlight at the end of the tunnel and find themselves looking out over the quaint hobble of stone buildings that make up Tri-Stone; home of the makers.

Lucien appraises the new surroundings, his brow quirked, clearly unimpressed. “Well,” he grumbles, watching you break away from Death to lean over the side of the wall that looks down onto a training area of some kind, “Isn’t this….. _charming_.”

“Thane!” You wave down to a powerful, dark-haired maker who’s battle-worn face lights up with a cheery grin when he sees you.

“Ha ha! Y/n! Death! Didn’t think we’d be seeing _you_ again so soon!” The old one’s eyes narrow suspiciously when they alight upon the two angels descending the stairs after you. “…and you brought _guests_.”

Thane shifts Old Bess up onto his shoulder and flexes his fingers against her handle as the group stops at his feet. “A couple of _pigeons_ , no less,” he sneers and leans down to deliberately invade Lucien’s personal space. “Ripe for the plucking, f’you ask me.”

The Archon sneers angrily but refuses to back down, choosing to stare deep into Thane’s dull, grey eyes in a bold, challenging display of authority. The sudden appearance of a potential threat seems to have lured the dormant corruption to the forefront of Lucien’s mind again. Rapidly, his sneer turns into a fierce snarl and a ripple shivers down the length of his wings, rustling the silvery feathers which begin to ooze a black, oily liquid. Death watches, bemused at the showdown whereas Nathaniel’s glance passes between his former master and the maker, obviously conflicted on whether or not he should intervene. All parties are startled from the stand-off though, when a tiny human pushes between them and slowly backs into Lucien, forcing him to tear his eyes from Thane’s and take a step backwards, peering down in surprise as you place your hands on your hips and huff scoldingly at the maker.

“Alright, that’s _enough_.”

As you speak, the darkness slithers obediently back beneath Lucien’s armour and he gasps softly, blinking away the traces of it that had slipped over his eyes. “Thane, this is Archon Lucien and Nathaniel. They’re good friends of ours-”

Behind you, Death scoffs, so you throw him a dirty look before correcting yourself. “- friends of _mine_. So be nice.”

Thane’s piercing eyes bore a hole into the face under Lucien’s hood for a moment longer until he finally drags them down to peer at you instead. At your back, you’d swear you can feel the Archon’s icy tendrils caress your spine. But when the overpowering maker spares him one last, dismissive snort and leans away from Lucien once more, you realise that it was probably just your imagination.

“Alright,” the warrior relents, throwing you a sly wink, “S’long as Y/n trusts you….Though, just to be clear, _I_ don’t.” And with that, he reaches down and rubs the tip of his finger over your hair to mess it up, grinning devilishly when you try to escape. “So, little’un. What brings you back to our neck of the woods, eh?”

In reply, Death pushes himself off the wall he’d been leaning against and starts to fish around in the pocket of his trousers. “Just a little something I needed to drop off,” he explains, at last pulling out a slimy, round object and tossing it up at Thane, who catches it easily between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it to his face. He twists and turns it around, holding it to the sun for a second and squinting hard until his face lights up in recognition.

“Oh _ho_! Oh I’d know this rancid old eyeball anywhere!” he exclaims excitedly, “This is Achidna’s eye! Then….she’s-”

“Dead,” the horseman confirms.

Nathaniel grimaces. “You’ve been _carrying_ that thing around in your pocket?”

“Gross,” you concur, shooting Death an equally disgusted look.

Thane inspects the eyeball again, spits, then squashes it with a simple twitch of his fingers. The resulting squelch pulls a strange noise from the back of Lucien’s throat.

Beaming from ear to pointed ear, the maker bows his head. ”Thank you for this, horseman.”

Death returns the gesture. “Think nothing of it. We had fun, didn’t we Y/n?”

“Oh, _oodles_ ,” you deadpan, “Who’d’ve thought the Dead Lands would have monsters in it that’re even _more_ grotesque than Death?”

—

Gradually, the day turns into evening, casting long shadows over the ground and immersing everything in a warm, golden glow.

At the top of the village, looking out over the training yard and beyond, Death and Thane have retreated, content to simply observe whilst you carry out introductions.

Karn had been, unsurprisingly, far more interested in catching up with _you_ than meeting the angels. Alya and Valus were at least cordial enough to engage with Nathaniel and Lucien although they eventually gave up on the latter and focused their attention on Nathaniel’s impressive armour instead. And Muria, ever the gentlewoman, tried her best to get a conversation out of the Archon, to no avail.

“He’s stickin’ close to Y/n, eh?” Thane comments, noting that whenever you stray a little too far from Lucien, the large angel’s head snaps in your direction and he stalks closer to you once again. “And,” he maintains, glancing sideways at the horseman, “S’not exactly your style to travel in such a big group….”

Death sighs at the maker’s open-ended question. “Tell me about it. Would you believe me if I told you that I actually _miss_ the days when it was just Y/n and I?”

“Y/n _and_ you?” Thane chuckles, “thought you were gonna say you missed when it was just _you_.”

Blinking hard, Death opens his mouth but recognises that it is already far too late to try and cover the slip up, so he simply shrugs, grunting, “I wouldn’t read too much into it, Old One.”

With a resigned huff, the maker casts his eyes over the angelic visitors. “So, how’d you wind up with them?”

With a long sigh, the horseman rests his elbows on the wall languidly. “Well, Nathaniel was easy. He just wanted to help; something about repaying a favour he apparently owes me,” Death murmurs, “and the Archon….. _Somehow_ , Y/n convinced me to spare the wretch’s life and allow him to accompany us on the journey - and before you ask!-” He holds up a hand to stop the maker’s oncoming barrage of questions, “- No, I _don’t_ know why Y/n decided to try and save his sorry hide. Nor, for that matter, why I actually agreed _not_ to kill him.” Death leaves the little detail as to _why_ the Archon needed killing in the first place out of the conversation. If the makers discover that there’s a corrupted angel in their midst, it could bring about a disaster that the horseman would prefer to avoid. At his side, Thane thumps the stone beneath him with a hearty laugh and proclaims, “Ha! I knew it. You _are_ going soft! Almost as soft as the kid by now, I reckon.”

Death’s blazing eyes flash dangerously, mask tilted to the side to fix the old warrior with as deadly a glare as he can muster. “You watch your tongue, _maker_ ,” he sneers, “before I cut it from your throat and feed it to Dust.”

Eyes sparkling with mirth, Thane leans down until his face is looming mere inches from Death’s mask. “I’d like to see you try, _boy_.”

“Like to see him try what?”

There’s a comical element in seeing two nigh indestructible beings flounder about so clumsily when they hear the sound of your voice, both of them simultaneously citing, “ _Nothing_!” as though to do so is a deeply instilled instinct that transcends species.

Death and Thane peer down over the wall to see you standing below them in the training yard, tapping your foot and grinning at them whilst the Archon lingers behind you, glowering. Looking up the courtyard, they spot Nathaniel, who’s busy dismantling one of his gauntlets to show Alya. “Wow,” you chirp, “I went from zero percent suspicious to a hundred percent in like, what? Two seconds?”

“Y/n!” Death claps his hands together distractingly, “Perfect timing. I was just telling Thane here how sloppy your fighting has gotten. Perhaps you could use another lesson or two….Or maybe three, you really butcher some of the manoeuvres he taught you.”

“Okay, that actually wasn’t necessary,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

“Well,” Thane declares, pushing himself away from the wall and tromping down the steps, “How about it? Fancy tussling with an old maker again?” He stops in front of you, one hand on his hip and the other already handing you a blunt short-sword from the weapon’s rack.

A smile plays at your lips as you regard the proffered weapon, but all of a sudden, there’s a hand on your shoulder and you’re being pulled back by the Archon. “Y/n is _injured_ ,” he states, gesturing to the exposed skin on your neck.

Death, who by now has joined you at the bottom of the steps approaches Lucien as Thane squints down at the faint bruises. In a split second, the maker goes from looking jovial and collected to livid and more than ready to ask questions, but you interject hurriedly. “Oh for goodness sake, it’s fine. I’ve had worse.”

Thane pulls a face, regarding you carefully while you stare into his eyes determinedly until he finally relents and gives his massive shoulders a shrug.

“F'you say so. You _sure_ , kid?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“See?” The warrior flashes Lucien a triumphant, toothy grin.

The angel curls his lip and harrumphs, but doesn’t fight you when you pull away from his loose grip on your shoulder to tug your hoodie off and throw it to the side. You then trot into the training circle, readying your sword and squaring your feet, just as Thane had taught you several weeks ago.

“Good. S’nice to see you’ve remembered some of my lessons,” the old one remarks.

Slinking over to a stone bench, Death leans lazily against it, calling over to you, “I wouldn’t act so impressed! It only goes downhill from here.”

Breaking concentration to stick your tongue out at the horseman, you almost miss the sudden, heavy swing that Thane aims at you with the broad side of his axe. Letting out a startled yelp, you roll beneath the attack, barely missing being knocked over like a skittle.

“ _Focus_ , Y/n!” the maker scolds, heaving Bess into the air, a classic ground-pounding move you’d seen him use a hundred times. It’s all in the timing of the jump. You keep your eyes fixed on the axe as it crashes down on top of you, but a split second before it does, you take a step backwards, brace your legs and then leap straight up, narrowly avoiding the massive shockwaves meant to knock you off your feet as it slams into the ground.

“Haha! Well done!” he praises, “Your reaction time’s improved. I’m startin’ to think Death’s just a bit paranoid.”

“Ha! Understatement of the century,” you quip, using his slow turning speed to your advantage and sprinting around the maker, landing a few quick jabs at the back of his unarmored knee.

This is how training with Thane usually goes. The thing about the old warrior that you appreciate most, is that he’s not afraid to get a little rough with you during his lessons, although your body certainly doesn’t appreciate it. Of course, you trust Thane not to actually cause _too_ much damage, heaven knows the man has enough control and skill to reign it back at a moment’s notice. But the fact that you’d get knocked about if you _didn’t_ make the right dodge or use the correct parry serves as remarkable incentive to improve oneself.

On the edge of the ring, near the steps that lead down towards the maker’s forge, Lucien watches the sparring proceed, teeth grinding themselves nearly to dust in his mouth. For days now, he’s been haughtily fighting against the rising tide of unwarranted and downright intrusive attachment he feels towards you. He hates how he’s let himself get in such a state. Half corrupted. Travelling with a Nephilim? Going soft on a human?….

‘ _How far the mighty have fallen_ ,’ he muses dismally, eyes glowing brightly in the dim light of day. As Lucien watches you flail around the ring, he has to use the sheer force of his will to aggressively beat back the corruption that flares up every single time Thane’s axe gets a little too close for comfort. The dark, inky blackness that plagues his mind’s eye fills his thoughts and consumes rationality with every barely-missed swing.

‘ **D a n g e r !** ’ a voice - _his_ voice - hisses furiously, ‘ **Nnnott sssaaaafe** ….’

The Archon moans quietly, taking his eyes off you for a moment to press his metal gloved fingers against his eyes, massaging the lids to try an alleviate some of the pressure behind them. “ _Calm_. _Down_ ,” he growls softly, failing to notice the horseman’s head slowly turn in his direction. Lucien shakes himself and determinedly focuses on you, the way you seem so unsure in your footing, the muttered apologies when Thane calls you out on a lazy move, the way your hair bounces wildly, catching the dying sunlight. Mercifully, the corrupted part of the Archon recedes slightly, clearing the cloud of confused chaos in his head. He even allows himself to smile when you expertly vault over Thane’s axe as it slides across the ground towards you. Maybe he had nothing to worry about after all?

Unfortunately, as a relatively inexperienced fighter, you tend to make your fair share of mistakes.

In a bold move you’d since learnt on the road with Death, you wait until Thane thunders towards you from across the training ring. He lifts the axe high over his right shoulder, poising it for a downward sweep, so naturally, you ready yourself to dodge to your right. You should have known he wouldn’t continue to be so predictable. Just as you start to strafe, the maker suddenly spins in the opposite direction, gripping his weapon with two hands and twisting his body in a clockwise motion, the axe now circling around towards you from his left. The change of direction isn’t what you anticipated, and in trying to right yourself by scrabbling in the other direction, you end up tripping over your own feet and crashing face-first onto the ground.

Quickly sitting up, you’re just in time to see Old Bess sweep over the ground until Thane turns it onto its side and allows the flat of the blade to collide with your hip, sending you skidding along the ground like a human-shaped hockey puck before you slam painfully into the wooden training dummy in the centre of the ring.

It wasn’t a particularly damaging blow. No broken bones, at least. It was _just_ hard enough to knock the wind out of you and give you a few bruises to show off tomorrow. ‘ _They’re character building_ ’ as Alya would say.

“Ah, crap,” Thane mutters, pinching your shirt between his thumb and forefinger and gently lifting you onto your wobbly feet again. “Sorry about that. Are you al-”

A strangled scream of outrage rends the otherwise still air and causes you to nearly jump a mile as something huge, dark and terrifying suddenly slams into the old warrior, hurling him into the far wall and pinning him there. Tearing your gaze from Thane’s dropped axe, you follow the trail of ebony, oozing liquid till you spy a pair of giant figures locked in a ferocious struggle at the far end of the arena.

“Lucien?” you whimper.

You can’t be sure of the moment the air turned so cold, or when the wind began to howl so loudly through the courtyard. You couldn’t even pinpoint the exact source of the tremulous thumping that pounds against your ears, as though your heart is trying to beat it’s way out of your ribcage. But you know it’s not _your_ heartbeat. This one sounds too….sick..

Dark magic.

The Archon’s vast wingspan is stretched wide, encompassing the entire maker from view and he has his gauntleted hand pressed deeply into Thane’s neck as if he’s trying to strangle the life out of him. The maker snarls, kicking out with his leg and catching the angel in his shin, causing him to shriek and lose his grip. Spittle and flecks of black corruption fly from his mouth as he hisses out between gritted teeth.

“ARCHON!” you scream, darting forwards to calm him down but suddenly finding yourself running into a gigantic, meaty hand. You try to shove it aside, glaring desperately up at Valus, who’d crossed Tri Stone in record time and thrown an arm out in front of you, ushering you backwards. Before him, Death has drawn his scythes and is stalking purposefully towards the dark angel, whose attention is solely on the old maker brandishing his axe.

“What in the name of the Stonefather is going on!?” bellows Thane, taking a furious swipe at the Archon.

“No wait, please! Don’t hurt him!” you cry, shoving at the maker’s hand “Valus! Let me pass!”

At the sound of your distress, the corrupted Archon’s head jerks in your direction, seeking out the familiarity of your voice. It hums loudly when it sees you, the thick tendrils of darkness sweeping along the floor towards your feet. Something garbled and warped bubbles up from his throat and spills out into the air, a word that sounds a lot like your name.

Wincing at the confused pain in his tone, you reach out a hand towards the angel.

There comes the sound of pounding footsteps behind you as Alya, Muria, Karn and Nathaniel join you at the edge of the ring.

“That’s enough, Archon!” Death barks, “Pack it in, or this time I really _will_ put you down.”

Looking past the raging angel, Thane glowers incredulously at the horseman. “You…” he breathes, slashing away a frenzied tentacle that whips over his head. “You _knew_ about this!?”

“It’s not what you think!” you beg whilst trying to get around Valus’ hand as he continues to back you up.

“The bastard angel’s corrupted!” Alya roars, “And you brought it _here_?!”

In an instant, Nathaniel is swooping over her head and landing hard on the ground beside Death. “I concur with Death, that is _enough_ , Lucien.”

“By the Stone….” you hear Muria whisper behind you, “What have you done?”

The Archon, now focused mostly on Death and the approaching Nathaniel launches a few tendrils towards them, scattering the pair left and right. He seems to tower almost as tall as Valus when he abruptly tears across the courtyard, clawing against the ground to propel himself at you faster. The speed of the advancing angel catches the makers off guard and Valus lifts his hand away from you to grab Splinterbone from his back.

In what is quite possibly the most idiotic decision of your life, you throw yourself in front of the four makers behind you, arms spread out widely as a pointless, protective gesture meant more to _distract_ Lucien from attacking them than anything else. The moment you’re free and exposed however, the corrupted Archon’s jaw opens wide in a melancholy roar and his eyes stream relentlessly with dark tears.

 _ **‘Hurt my friend! Make them ssuufffeerr!**_ ’ repeats and repeats and repeats inside his head like a broken record player.

“Y/n! Get out of the way!” Death pleads in an unusual display of unconcealed worry. But you don’t budge, not even when Lucien bears down on top of you, tendrils bombarding the makers and forcing them away from you. 

Instinct or impulse….It’s unclear exactly what drives the Archon when he’s in such a state of mind, but it matters little when it’s actually happening.

Before anyone can react, Lucien barrels straight into you, but rather than cause you further injury, he brings his arms up underneath your legs and around your shoulders, sweeping you as gently as he can off the ground without even slowing down a fraction. Then, with an almighty flap of his oily wings, he propels himself up into the air with all the power of a speeding missile, flying high over Tri Stone in a matter of seconds. The force he hits you with is enough to push the scream out of your lungs and you uselessly call out to the horseman below.

“DEATH! HELP ME!”

The makers and your other angelic friend stare up in shock and horror as you’re flown helplessly further and further into the sky and away from them. A flash of blinding purple light snaps them out of their horrified daze and Thane shouts for Death to hurry as the horseman’s reaper form erupts from the ground and shoots off after the rapidly disappearing Archon.

But even Death can see that in this state, his two wings are no match for the Archon’s natural command of the air. He knows he’ll have no chance at catching up. But still, Death tries. The hood of the Reaper billows violently in the wind of the darkening sky as he whips through the air for as long as he can.

To his disappointment though, the Archon and your petrified cries for help disappear over a craggy cliff-face and even though Death is quick to flit higher into the air in an attempt to reach a vantage point where he might spot you again, it’s too late. The Reaper’s head swivels about, searching desperately for any sign of Lucien, but when it becomes clear that he’s lost you both, the horseman lets his wings droop and a slow, quiet hiss of breath escapes from beneath the tattered hood.

“ _No_.”


	4. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So love really does conquer all?

High above the rolling, green meadows of the Forge Lands, soaring at a rate of knots through the night sky, the Archon clutches his charge possessively against him with strong, heavily-armoured hands splayed out over your back and thighs so that your face is crushed uncomfortably into a hard chest. But every time you brace your arms and try to push yourself away, the giant angel carrying you lets out a furious snarl and shoves you back into place.

It’s with a resigned sigh that you just decide to give up and let your body flop uselessly in the Archon’s iron grip.

“ _Lucien_!” Your call is muffled by his armour. “For Chrissake! Put me _down_!” Not the most sensible demand, given how high up you are, but at this point your heart is pounding too aggressively to actually allow you a coherent thought. Incredibly though, something you said must have reached him because all of a sudden, the Archon dips and your stomach drops too as he glides closer to the ground. Or at least, you _hope_ he’s aiming for the ground; from your vantage point, all you can see is gold and white metal.

The rustling of leaves and snapping twigs fills your ears and with a sudden jolt, your flight comes to a jarring stop.

No longer can you hear the steady beating of the Archon’s huge, silver wings, the rush of air past your bare arms _or_ feel the coaxing allure of gravity. You heave a shaky sigh, grateful to be back on solid ground.

A gentle rumble disturbs you from your relief as the angel finally withdraws his arms and deposits you carefully onto a pile of…. _leaves_?

You blink, peering up to see a bright, white moon filtering through a canopy of gently swaying branches. At first, you imagine he must have landed somewhere in Baneswood and dropped you onto a patch of fallen leaves and twigs. That is, until you look down.

Acres of twisting tree limbs and thousands upon thousands of green, fluttering leaves stretch far, far below you when you find yourself staring down over the edge of a large tangle of branches that form a sturdy platform for you to sit on. With a scream as shrill as a banshee’s, you realise exactly where you are: Suspended about half a mile in the air over the hard ground by a frankly untrustworthy nest of leaves and sticks with a corrupted Archon in the _Tree of Life_.

“Nonono _nonono_ ,” you mutter frantically, back-peddling away from the edge.

The Archon’s dark eyes widen as you suddenly begin to near the opposite side of the plateau and the painful drop below it - so, without thinking, he surges forwards to throw an arm out behind you, stopping you in your tracks.

When your back hits metal, your head snaps up and comes face to face with Lucien’s oily, black gaze, finding yourself transfixed on the mesmerising bottomlessness of it like a deer in headlights.

Corruption drips from his eyes, stretches over his wings and clogs up those beautiful, silvery feathers. Sharp, yellow crystals stick out at odd angles and glint with a sickly light all the way along them. He’s crouched low over you, bathing your entire form in his fearsome shadow with one hand still resting on your trembling back.

You stare up at him for some time, breathing heavily whereas he hardly makes a sound at all.

 _’This is bad,’_ you muse, ’ _He’s never taken me away like this before._ ’

In fact, every single time he’d lost control so far, you’d had the horseman at your back to help should things go south. As it is, by spiriting you away nearly to the top of the Tree of Life, Lucien has rendered you utterly alone with _him_.

Your heart beats even more wildly with the realisation that you could well be in mortal danger right now, and a shiver ripples through your body at the thought, preluding the stab of cold dread to your gut.

Groaning when Lucien’s icy tendrils of corruption begin to creep up your arms, you cast your gaze heavenward and sigh, “Why me?”

The question had been aimed more at the powers of the universe rather than present company, but that doesn’t stop the latter from answering all the same.

Almost without hesitation, the Archon opens his mouth and a bubbling, garbled voice thrums in your ears. The sound is disturbing, as though he’s trying to breathe through a thick soup that’s clogging up his throat, but the word he rasps is unmistakable.

“ ** _F R I E N D_.** ”

Curling his gigantic fist into the back of your shirt, he tugs you away from the ledge that you nearly backed over.

The Archon’s unexpected response caught you wildly off guard, as does the tiny, disarming smile he’s awkwardly giving you, like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be doing with his mouth so he just rolls with the motion.

You distractedly brush away a wispy tendril that’s exploring the line of your jaw and give him a stern look. “Friends don’t _kidnap_ friends,” you scoff.

Irritation swirls around in your stomach, prompting you to stand up onto shaky legs, bringing you eye-level with the enormous angel.

You’re tired. Worried about your _other_ friends. Scared to _death_ of what they’ll do to Lucien now that he’s actually attacked one of them and the makers all know you’d brought corruption right into their home. On top of that, you’re trapped at a dizzying height in a giant tree with an unpredictably volatile angel. So when _said_ angel reaches out a steadying hand, you feel perfectly justified in swatting it away.

“Stop that!” you snap.

Stunned, the Archon pulls his arm away, his features twisting into an expression of hurt before he ventures to stretch several tentacles out towards you instead, albeit _far_ more cautiously.

“I can’t _believe_ you attacked Thane!” you huff, crossing your arms and turning away from him, “I really thought you were about to – to….”

With a shudder, you recall the murderous rage in Lucien’s blackened eyes as he pinned Thane against the wall. Thank god the old warrior reacted so quickly and effectively - you dread to think of what the crazed angel might have done to the others if you hadn’t distracted him. You _want_ to trust him, really you do, but you can’t ignore the nagging sense that he absolutely would have killed your friends without hesitation if you weren't there to head him off.

Shooting the Archon a sad glare, you murmur, “I _trusted_ you, you know?”

He cocks his head to the side, blinking down at you, expressionless and you shudder upon peering into the darkness beneath his hood, the dark where a light should be.

“I thought you were _safe_. We weren’t in any danger!” you rant, “Why’d you just flip out like that?”

In response, the Archon – still kneeling before you – suddenly raises one hand to grasp your hip and hold you still. Obviously thrown, you squawk and push against his fingers nervously, at least until he brings up his other hand and hovers it next to your opposite side. You freeze, eyes wide as you watch his face contort into something anguished and then he gently – so, so gently – ghosts his knuckles over the soft curve of your flesh. Instantly, you flinch, taken aback by the flash of pain where a bruise has no doubt started to form where you took that hit from Thane’s axe.

Whimpering, you try to pull out of Lucien’s firm hold, but the hand on your side keeps you steadily in place whilst he hesitantly lifts the hem of your shirt to reveal an enormous, angry red mark that has sprung to the surface of your skin.

The effect of laying eyes on the injury is instantaneous.

The angel’s wings start to quiver, the corruption clinging to his feathers writhes and flares up, forming big globules of black that float above his back. A sudden burst of light flashes out from beneath his hood, forcing you to shield your eyes against the abrupt intrusion in the otherwise dark night. With a pained bellow, Lucien’s hand finally releases you and he wrenches himself away to collapse on the uneven platform of leaves and branches, where he begins to heave violently.

Caught wildly by surprise, you remain frozen to the spot, one hand clutching your chest and the other extended slightly towards the giant angel. “Archon?!” you squeak, gasping when several more bursts of light escape his gaping mouth and shine through the gaps in his armour. “What’s _happening_ to you!?”

Lucien barely hears you through the furious buzzing in his head.

The corrupted half of his psyche fights with the purer counterpart for control, both determined to keep the other away from you. He hadn’t expected corruption to react so viscously to seeing your bruise. But the question remains; Why? Why out of _every_ other creature that corruption has come into contact with are _you_ the only one it’s so inexplicably drawn to?

The angel’s eyes widen as he crashes onto his side, facing you and staring up into your frightened face.

Deep down in the chasm where a heart might have once been, something small and fragile flutters.

’ _ **Friend**_ ,’ the darkness hisses upon seeing you - and all of a sudden, the Archon begins to understand.

You’re like a drug. An addictive substance that he can’t seem to get enough of. You came to him at his darkest and offered something he had no idea he’d been craving. Kindness. Compassion….

 _Friendship_.

All of these things he once considered beneath him.

The Archon - _Lucien_ \- didn't have anything so prosaic as friends. He didn't  **need** any!

Corruption is a plague, a festering infection born of hatred and betrayal. It had never known the touch of a warm hand or the tender words of a concerned friend. It didn’t deserve love and never imagined it would want it.

Until _you_ came along and changed _everything_.

Lucien’s skin burns like it’s on fire and the corruption clinging to it struggles to keep itself anchored, sliding and roiling over him with a mind of it’s own.

He hears you calling his name again, so full of worry that he drags his eyes up to meet your gaze.

“Y.. _Y/n_!” he gasps, reaching out an armoured hand.

“Jus-Just hang on!” you croak whilst peering down over the side of the nest. Now that you look properly, the huge branches intertwine and run so closely together, it would probably be fesible for you to actually jump from one to the other - if you’re careful - until you’re closer to the ground. From there, you figure you’ll just have to improvise, maybe shimmy the rest of the way down the trunk.

One thing’s for sure though; you are _not_ equipped to help a clearly unstable Archon. You don’t know how on Earth to stop… _whatever’s_ happening.

His corruption jerks around the canopy, thrashing above his body and snapping thick branches when it wraps around them then constricts suddenly.

And it is _screaming_.

Somehow, the black substance itself is emitting a bloodcurdling shriek, almost sounds as though it’s in immense pain.

A rush of determination hits you like a slap in the face. The Archon may be a corrupted, grabby mess…but at the end of the day, he’s still your friend.

Clenching your fists, you get down onto your knees, facing away from the edge. “I’m going for help!” you inform him as you begin to lower yourself over the branch you’re crouched on. With trembling legs, you seek out footholds in the thick bark, calling up to the angel once again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay!?”

But before you can proceed any further, a screeching roar of outrage explodes from above, nearly deafening you with its ferocity. The force shakes the Tree of Life, sending leaves raining down from the above and causing the wood you’re on to shudder violently. Looking up, you yelp when a huge arm shoots out over the precipice and slides down the branch, fingers probing and feeling along the wood in search of you.

Gritting your teeth, you crane your head over your shoulder to try and gauge the distance between this tree limb and the one below it. If you could _just_ reach it, the Archon might be unable to follow. You take a deep breath, preparing to literally throw yourself out over the void but - with little to no warning - those metal fingers brush over your shoulder, slinking down your back before they wrap themselves gently around your waist, tugging on your body insistently.

“Archon! _No_!” you shout, digging your hands and feet into the gaps between the bark, “Let _go_ of me! I’ve got to find Muria, she’ll know how to help you!”

But the angel either doesn’t hear you, or he doesn’t much care.

With a last, firm yank, he manages to pry you from the limb and carefully lifts you back up onto the nest.

He’s crouches on his knees, one arm holding his heavy body up weakly and the other clinging to you as though his life depends on it.

The light in his eyes shines dimly through the murky darkness coating their surface as he knits his brow and lowers his monstrous head closer to yours.

“Lu-Lucien!” you stammer, “You need to let me go! You…you need _help_!”

The angel drops his maw open and draws in a deep, ragged breath before releasing it slowly, allowing the hot air to wash over your face and send your hair fluttering.

 **"F̨͍̙R̥̱͜I̳E̝N̵̥̩̜̭D҉͕̮̼S͕̫̜̮̹̞.̦͚.̜̱̪̩̪.͙͍̱̖͘. ͙̫̥D̸̙̻O̫͈N'҉T̮̮͕̕.̷͚̰͔̖̯.̘̝̼͓̙̼͟..͙̗̠̳̮A̭̤͍̦͟B͓̙͠ͅA̮͇̮̮̮N̺̹̣͓͔̲Ḓ̵̱͇͚̜ͅON̥͎͙̼̳̞̳.҉̬̼͓.̯.̡͚̻͎͇̘.̮͈͟F̟̭̻̹͎̺̱͟R̨̼I̺EǸ͓͉͔̲D̦̜̘̤͔̼S** ,” it growls.

 

All of a sudden, Lucien convulses brutally, dropping you to the floor and lurching backwards, clutching at his head. You can only sit and stare as he collapses to his knees once again, a grunting, panting beast.

The Archon’s head feels as though it’s being split in two.

The corruption bashes against the back of his mind repeatedly and claws at his lungs as it starts trying to peel itself free of its host’s insides.

Corruption: An entity of living hate and rage and suffering…..

But there’s something about you that it can’t seem to handle.

Lucien hardly dare address what he already knows to be true, no matter how cliche it seems. After all, he’s read of it in ancient scriptures.

Humans revere it. Demons _fear_ it. Angels have nothing but disdain for it.

 _Love_ was more a less a myth in Heaven. There were always stories, cautionary tales of angels who’d succumbed to their baser instincts which ended in disaster nearly every single time.

Unions of convenience were far more common and any angel who claimed to feel ‘love’ was met with suspicion and caution.

But the Archon can’t deny the familiarity of it’s foreignness. It’s the only thing that seems to be driving Corruption back, away from the forefront of his mind. But he can’t love you.

“ _Thisssss_ ….” his mind whispers, “ _isss ssoomething elssse_ ….”

It _has_ to be….

Doesn’t it?

Inky liquid streams from Lucien’s eyes and mouth and even his nose and ears whilst his hands curl into fists around the leaves and twigs below him. He huffs, holding your frightened gaze, groaning weakly. “ _Help_ **_me_**.….”

“I – I don’t know _how_!” you whimper.

The angel’s body shivers and the yellow crystals on the back of his wings begin to crack. “… _Please_?”

With a loud gasp for air, he crashes onto his elbow, head hanging low over the floor but still looking right at you imploringly.

“Oh….Archie,” you breathe, noticing his eyes brighten at the sound of his nickname. You’re astounded that, even in this state, he’d really just asked _you_ for help. The Archon’s pride rivals that of anyone you’ve ever know, but in that moment, he didn’t sound like the self-absorbed, holier-than-thou archangel you’d met that fateful day on the Crystal Spire. This time, he sounds tired, sad and scared. Just a broken man who’s afraid of what’s happening to him.

Timidly, you crawl towards the fallen angel, mindful of the corruption that’s begun to pool beneath his head. When you reach him, you slide your hands under the hood and cup his cheeks, lifting his face and keeping it steady.

Your breath catches in your throat when he sighs blissfully and presses his cheek harder into your palm. “ _I…I think…I might be_ -” The angel’s body quakes and several of the smaller crystals shatter “- _I might be….dying_ …” he finally chokes out, gazing at you in wonderment.

You match his stare with steely, resolute eyes. Without a word, you slide your hands from his cheeks, around the back of his neck, feeling the soft curl of long hair and tangling your fingers in it. Then, leaning up and forwards, you pull his head down to lay it on your shoulder whilst pressing your cheek into his silver hood. There, you hold him close, sniffling and burying your nose in the warm fabric.

Gingerly, the angel snakes his arm around your back and his breathing hitches as he musters up the courage to pull you tighter against his neck.

And finally, Corruption falls silent.

You cling to Lucien, watching as the pool of corrupted blackness begins to move. It trills and slithers away over the branches, folding over itself until it reaches the edge of a huge limb. Although you can see no features, nor any discernible shape of a body, you can feel it’s eyes boring into you as it pauses. For a few moments, you’re locked in a strange stand-off with Lucien’s corruption. It bubbles and breaks apart, only to reform itself effortlessly as it sits on the tree branch, a part of it slightly raised like a head emerging from a black puddle. The urge to wave overtakes you - it feels like losing a part of Lucien himself - so you loosely tug one arm free from the his hood and give the stuff a stiff shake of your hand. Whatever you did seemed to break the stalemate, for the head collapses back into itself and the entire pool of corruption suddenly seeps into the bark with a hiss, disappearing from view completely. The instant it’s out of sight, you feel ten times lighter in the head and the air doesn’t feel so thick and heavy to breathe.

A soft moan draws your attention back to the angel in your arms. Flicking your eyes over the Archon’s body, you gasp when you realise that there isn’t a drop of corruption on him. No yellowed crystals on his wings, no murky oil oozing from his feathers. He eventually glances up at you and you let out a shaky exhale when the light beneath his hood glows brightly, illuminating the dark tree around you.

“Y/n?” he coughs miserably, at last able to focus on you properly. He wheezes when you throw yourself hard into him, tightening your arms around his neck in a way that might have been excruciating if he’d been a human. “You’re okay!” you clamour before pulling away to give him an incredulous shake of your head. “What the Hell _happened_ back there! You were shaking and vomiting and-and-!”

The angel interrupts by abruptly pushing his forehead against yours and exhaling softly. “It’s gone…” he whispers.

“I-what?”

He smiles, the first genuine smile he’s ever really given you and a breathless laugh slips part his teeth. “The corruption. It’s _gone_ , Y/n. I can feel it, or rather-” He stretches his wings and grunts happily. “-I _can’t_ feel it, not anymore.”

Your face twists up in confusion. “But…but how? I don’t understand!”

The Archon sits up onto his knees, catching your hands in his when they fall from around his neck. He regards you warmly as you crane your neck back to look up at him. “You killed that part of me,” he tries to explain softly, “It felt like I was dying…because I _was_. Well, half of me was..” His eyebrows pinch, recalling the rush of horror he’d felt when he saw your bruise. “When I saw that you were injured, something inside me just….snapped! And I knew…I think that’s when I knew I-” He stops.

Before today, if the Archon entertained the notion of telling you what he’s about to, he’d’ve had himself institutionalised. He’d never have thought himself capable of breaking such a sacred, holy law by admitting that he loved a human. Now, though…

’ _Why not tell you_?’ he wonders, ‘ _I've already betrayed my kind. Slaughtered them in cold blood. I let corruption sink its claws into my body and let it sully my soul. What more do I have to lose?_ ’

Lucien blinks slowly and purses his lips, coming to some, internal decision. “Love,” he finally confesses.

You gape, staring owlishly up at the enormous angel. “Huh?”

Groaning, he rolls his eyes as he realises that he’s going to have to spell it out for you. “What are you, _dense_?” he snaps, “I love you. _That’s_ how you got rid of the corruption. It could not live inside me whilst I….” He trails off, furrowing his brow as the weight of another realisation lands on his shoulders. “…Whilst I loved someone _more_ than I love myself…”

You’re fairly certain you must look a sight with your jaw hanging nearly unhinged against your chest but you can’t quite wrap your head around what you’re hearing.

“I – I’m sorry, I must have blacked out for a second there… It sounded like you just said, you _love_ me...Tell me I'm not going crazy."

“Oh, it’s indubitably crazy,” the Archon agrees, nodding, “but why should that mean it’s not true?”

Letting out a long whistle, you press a hand to your forehead and back away from him a few steps. “Wow. So…so you’re saying that _you_ loving _me,_ forced corruption out of you?”

He nods. “I’ve been told that this ‘love’ is much stronger than hate. And seeing as how Corruption is hatred _personified_ …”

A snort causes the angel to blink rapidly, tilting his head at you whilst you slap a hand over your mouth, smiling giddily.

“Seriously?” you giggle, “Love trumps hate? Do you have _any_ idea how cliché that sounds?”

Frowning, Lucien lowers a hand and scoops your legs out from under you, forcing you to sit on his palm after which he lifts you to his face. “I despise cliches,” he huffs, “I find them lazy, unimaginative and boorish. Much the same as I found you when we first met.”

That gets you to stop laughing, instead thumping his shoulder and exclaiming “Hey!”

Lucien stares at you intensely. “But then do you know what happened? You grew on me.....I mean, you grew like a boil, but you still _grew_.”

He can’t help but grin at the unimpressed look you shoot his way but then his smile softens and he relaxes slightly, unconsciously pulling you closer. “Happy endings may be all the rage,” he murmurs, eyes flickering to and from your parted lips, “And now I’m beginning to see why.”

Even _you_ aren’t oblivious to the sudden change in atmosphere. Your heart begins to beat a little more insistently as you notice Lucien’s gaze is no longer focused on your eyes. ’ _What is he thinking_?’ you wonder.

The archangel debates whether or not this is a good idea. It’s one thing to confess that he’s in love with a human, but to actually act upon it? To dig himself into a pit far deeper than the one he’s already in? Preposterous…

So why does the idea feel so undeniably tantalising? There’s a sense of freedom and absolute liberation in disobeying everything he’s ever been taught, the feeling is as intoxicating as you are. “…I can’t believe I’m about to do this…” he murmurs, a half-smile twitching at his lip.

As Lucien begins to lean forward, you blink, raising an eyebrow. “Do wha-mmf!”

There in the Tree of Life, high above the rolling green meadows of the Forge Lands, the Archon and human share their first kiss.

Lucien’s large fingers card gently through your hair, moving it behind your ear and you quickly realise that this might just be his first kiss ever. He’s eager, a little too confident as he lips clumsily at your mouth. Smiling against him, you pull back a little, coaxing him into slowing down before leaning forward again and easing your mouth open, trying not to laugh when his tongue almost shyly slips past your lips to stroke tentatively over yours.

Your hands loop around the back of his neck, folding over each other comfortably, subtly letting him know that you don’t plan on going anywhere without taking him with you. His mouth is warm and inviting, urging you to pull him closer and deepening the kiss, the faint taste of honeysuckle leaving it’s sweetness on your tongue.

All too soon, he pulls away and peers down at you with an expression of sheer elation. In honesty, he’d never felt more _alive_. Truly free of corruption, of any social ramifications at pursuing a relationship with a human. This must be what freedom feels like and _you_ must be what freedom _tastes_ like.

“Sooo?” you sing, biting your lip, “Was…that okay?”

In response, the Archon beams, quite literally. The light that radiates from his body only enhances his dazzling smile that turns the leaves around you a beautiful golden colour. “I suppose I could be....persuaded to do that again,” he says, finally lowering you to the canopy floor again. Giddy with excitement, you cough into your hand and jerk a thumb over your shoulder.

“Right, well.. Me too. But um- We should probably go and tell the others we’re okay.”

Instantly, the Archon’s face falls. “I doubt they’d care beyond your own safety, my friend. It might be safer if I left-”

“Stop that,” you scold him, “You’re not about to kiss me in a treetop and then ditch me. We’ll be okay…..”

Lucien sends you a skeptical look, “But your horseman-”

“We’ll explain everything, they’ll _listen_ to me! We just need to say that your Corruption’s gone. It’s the truth,” you urge. Then, shyly, you duck your head and peek up at him. “That is, as long as you’re alright with them knowing that you said….what you said.”

A gust of wind rustles the leaves around your heads and you both gaze out over the Stone Father’s Vale. The Archon squints against the moonlight, catching a faint, green glow making it’s way across the meadow at speed, a tiny speck of white trailing beside it.

“Death approaches,” he rumbles, steeling his heart against the thought of the horseman’s wrath.

“Maybe they think you took me back to Lost Light?” you suggest, but Lucien shrugs.

“Or perhaps they approach the next leg of the journey without us.”

You furrow your brow sternly. “No, Death wouldn’t leave us behind.”

“You mean, he wouldn’t leave _you_ behind.”

“Well, _I’m_ not leaving you behind, so it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re coming with us, Lucien. I want you with me. A-and if you don’t want me to tell anyone what happened here, I’ll understand. We’ll just say I talked the corruption out of you. Hell, Death _knows_ what a chatterbox I can be when I’m nervous-”

The angel surprises you when he suddenly lifts you into the crook of his elbow and strolls easily to the edge. “My dear,” he murmurs quietly against your ear, tickling the hairs on your neck, “I would have the universe know that you belong to me.”

With that, he spreads his wings wide, feeling his feathers rustle cooly in the night’s breeze and a single step sends you both plunging from the branches of the tree.

—–

“He must have taken Y/n back to Lost Light!” Death calls to his angelic companion as they gallop across the vale, “When I get my hands on that filthy son of a -”

Despair squeals, skidding to a stop and throwing his head back, rearing high into the air as an Archon-shaped projectile slams into the ground before him.

In a flash, Death has his scythes drawn and poised, ready to strike, next to him, Nathaniel’s sword is also pointed in front of him, his wings trembling with protective vivacity.

The Archon stands, shaking himself out and placing you delicately on the ground at his feet.

“Y/n,” Death barks, managing to keep the visceral relief from his tone, “Get away from-”

You dart forwards, raising your arms and gesturing for them to lower their weapons. “Hey wait, it’s alright! He’s not corrupted!”

“What?” they both blurt out at the same time.

Behind you, Lucien steps forward, eying Death’s scythes suspiciously.“Y/n speaks the truth,” he tells them, “I give you my word.”

“Your _word_ doesn’t exactly have a good track record,” Death drawls viscously.

Desperately, you shake your hands and back into the Archon, feeling his palms come to rest on your shoulders. “Look, we’ll explain everything, I promise. Let’s just find the makers first and-”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nathaniel pipes up, “They’re out for blood. Well, we were **all** out for blood-” He sends Lucien a scathing look “- But you’ve got three rampaging makers out scouring the Forge Lands for you right now and _two_ pacing trenches into the village stone.”

“But…but if we just talk to them, they’ll see that-”

“Y/n,” Death sighs, “The Archon attacked one of their own. If they see him, I can’t imagine that _you’ll_ be able to protect him.”

You peer up at the Archon’s grimacing face and sigh deeply. “…So, what do we do?”

“We leave,” Death states, grabbing your arm and pulling you from Lucien’s grip and into Despair’s saddle then turning towards the Tree, “you can tell us what happened on the way to our next destination.” Here, he shoots the archangel a murderous glare. “And I hope for your sake, the excuse is a good one.”


End file.
